Breaking the Cycle
by Torny
Summary: Nine years before The Phantom Menace, Shmi Skywalker recieves some startling news.


**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all its characters belong to George Lucas.

  
  


**Breaking the Cycle**

By Torny

  
  


Shmi Skywalker bent over her work, cleaning a delicate droid sensor. She was very tired, but her master had ordered her to finish her work before the next day. And when you are a slave, you do as you're told.

Shmi was terribly bored with her life. It was the same cycle, day after day. Wake up, eat a meager breakfast, clean parts… And the last month had been even worse than usual. She had been feeling ill for weeks now. Vomiting in the morning, terrible back pains. Her master, Xayn Fyre, had brought in a physician, who had taken some of her blood for testing. But there had been no word from him in days. _Perhaps I'm getting old_, Shmi thought. But that couldn't be right. After all, she was only thirty-five.

"Shmi! Shmi! You'll never guess the news!"

Shmi turned around to see Nefere, one of the house slaves. She had an annoying knack for gossip, which delighted Fyre's many mistresses. "What is it now, Nefere?" Shmi asked wearily. "Don't tell me. Fyre has disbanded his smuggling operation and decided to join the Merchant's Guild?"

Nefere laughed. "I wish! Oh Shmi, you aren't gonna believe this!"

Curious, Shmi eyed Nefere. "What are you talking about?"

Nefere giggled. "That doctor came back with the results from your blood tests. You'll never guess!"

"Come out with it, Nefere," Shmi snapped irritably. She was running on three hours of sleep and was in no mood for guessing games.

"You're pregnant!"

Shmi's jaw dropped. "_What?"_

"You heard me. Pregnant! The doctor says you're in you're in your eighth week. I'm surprised you aren't showing by now!"

Shmi's mind reeled. _Pregnant? But I've never even…_ It didn't make any sense. How could this be?

Shmi tried to calm herself. She doubted Fyre would be very upset. After all, her being pregnant would mean getting a free slave. A slave. Her child would be a slave…

"So, Shmi, who's the lucky guy?"

Shmi shook her head. "Oh, come on!" said Nefere. "Was it Lyle? Or Ben? I've noticed you two eyeing each other…"

"There is no father. I can't explain it," said Shmi. "Maybe it isn't meant to be explained…" she trailed off thoughtfully.

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Nefere. "There _has_ to be a father…" Just then, she was interrupted by yelling down the hall. "Oops! Gotta run!" Nefere sprinted for the door. "Wait 'till I tell Nathan! He'll never believe…" Nefere's voice faded as she disappeared down the hall.

Shmi was left alone to ponder her situation. _I'm going to have a child_, she thought, smiling. Oh, he would be wonderful. A little baby boy, with messy blond hair, and blue eyes… She didn't know how she knew that. She just did. Shmi Skywalker went back to work, a small smile on her face.

  


_Seven Months Later..._

"Keep pushing, Shmi! It's almost here!"

Shmi Skywalker did as she was told, moaning in pain. She had been offered painkillers, but had refused, afraid they would somehow hurt her baby. "Here he comes! I can see the head!" the midwife exclaimed.

Shmi rested her head on the pillow. Never had she been through such an ordeal. But it would be over soon. And she would have a son. The last seven months had been a blur, seeing one doctor after another. Fyre had been delighted at the prospect of a free slave, much to Shmi's disgust. She was determined that her son would one day be free. He was meant for great things, she could feel it. 

What puzzled her was the reaction by her friends once they had found out. At first they had been happy for her. But as Shmi had received more of Fyre's attention, their happiness soon turned to jealousy. That _really_ puzzled her. Who wanted attention from _him_? The pats on the shoulder, the occasional brush as they passed each other in the halls… revolting!

But all that was over. Soon she would have a child, someone to love and raise. That thought had kept Shmi going when things were at their worst. Even in her condition, she had still been forced to clean parts from dawn till dusk. And though it was painstaking work, she did it with her usual efficiency. Shmi Skywalker was a dependable servant.

"Here he comes!" Shmi looked up just in time to see the midwife hold up a baby boy. He was crying, but the midwife assured Shmi that this was normal just after birth. The midwife cleaned up the child and handed him to Shmi. She then left, saying, "I expect you need your sleep, eh?"

Shmi held her son and talked to him soothingly until his cries turned into silent curiosity. Smiling, Shmi rested him against her breast and looked into his little blue eyes, which were staring up at her in wonder.

_My little Anakin…_

  
  


_FIN_

  
  
  
  
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